Come Back To Me
by AgentJoanneMills
Summary: They are always saying goodbye. Always. They are destined for farewells, the same way they are destined to always meet at gunpoint. Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.


**A/N: ****This was already posted in AO3. :))**

**The title, and the feel, of this fic was from David Cook's "Come Back To Me." I was listening to it last night, and I realized that it is sooo overflowing with Bering-Wells feels that I just had to write something down.**

**It was supposed to be just about a thousand words long, but, well... you know how these things go.**

**Probably better if you read it while the song plays in the background.**

**The elements of this story belong to their respective owners. :))**

* * *

They are always saying goodbye. Always. They are destined for farewells, the same way they are destined to always meet at gunpoint.

* * *

Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.

* * *

The first goodbye, the one after her saving Claudia, well, she didn't actually bother saying goodbye. All that was left of her was that blasted grappler. And that sweet, sweet note, written on a square piece of paper – yes, a new discovery that fascinated her so – a post-it.

* * *

Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.

* * *

The next goodbye was way more painful. After her betrayal, a moment wasn't even spared for murmured goodbyes. No, she was immediately carted off by the Regents. Off to who-knows-where. And Myka… she was too confused to linger on.

And so she left the Warehouse.

She was planning on staying in her family's bookstore till she dies, if that's what it would take to erase the pain. If burrowing under those old and musty, but trusty, solid, permanent books could make her forget, then so be it. (But then of course there's the fact that despite the relative safety, security, sanity her books provide, they, too, are tainted. _God, why did_ she _have to be an author?_)

She's ready to forget. She wanted so _badly_ to forget.

And then there's Pete, the brother she never had. He'd gotten a new partner, who had kind, peaceful eyes and a trustworthy aura (Aura? When did she start thinking like this? She's not Leena.) Steve's so unlike her brash, unreliable self.

They asked her for help. So she did.

Just this once, she swore to herself. _Just this once_.

* * *

Nothing ever goes according to plan. Nothing according to her plan, anyway.

She never expected Mrs. Frederick's visit. (In a way, nobody ever did.) But who she brought was even more unexpected.

Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe two.

Okay, _fine_.

Her heart stopped beating the moment she saw her.

And she hated that it did. Hated that this woman had that power over her. Hated that she _always_ had that power over her.

But most of all, Myka hated that the hate wasn't strong enough.

When those dark pools of immeasurable depth gazed at her, she melted.

Because Helena – _Helena_ – was staring at her with those eyes filled with grief and shame and guilt.

Suddenly, being angry just wasn't even worth the trouble anymore.

* * *

Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.

* * *

The third goodbye was bittersweet. They had successfully retrieved Joshua's elusive Trumpet. Helena's… consciousness was hovering next to her.

"We did make a good team… didn't we?" Helena was hesitant. But her eyes – Myka would never get tired of reading those windows, of staring at them… she would gladly drown in them if she could – spoke of hope.

"We really did. And then you…" Helena's breath hitched. "I just wish you would've realized that sooner."

And those eyes filled with so much pain, Myka just ached to hold her, touch her. But she couldn't.

"So do I." Her voice was tinged – tinged? No, it was _dripping_ with such regret and longing that Myka felt her heart, what remains of it, at least, throb with agony.

The moments when they stared at each other… Myka wanted them to last.

But, as with all her wishes, it's not meant to be. Pete came, and she forced herself to return Helena to her prison, to that damned sphere.

* * *

Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.

* * *

The fourth goodbye sank Myka's soul to the depths of Earth. It's been so long since she'd last seen Helena. So _damn_ long. She expected happiness at seeing her again. And she was happy… for like, the first forty-five seconds. Before she realized that this corporeal Helena _wasn't_ Helena. No, this creature, this person, inhabiting the body she so admired and longed to touch, no, this wasn't Helena. This Emily Lake was nothing compared to the one H.G. Wells. She was but a shadow.

Myka pondered that for a bit. No, not a shadow. She's not even that.

Myka wanted to touch that body, and she could, but she didn't. That body, that's Helena's. But she's not yet there now. And Myka couldn't stomach the thought of touching that body while it was occupied by someone else.

She'd wait until Helena's body and consciousness are one entity once more. She'll bring this Emily to physical safety – she has to, otherwise Helena wouldn't be complete – and she's going to erase her existence. With that, Helena would be entirely back.

Why does nothing go according to plan?

She's glad to see the real H.G. Not touchable, yes, but at least she's real. Not a shadow. This hologram version contained all that was inside Helena. And for now, that's enough for Myka.

"Living with a cat in Wyoming?" Her distaste was evident. And if things weren't so serious Myka would've laughed.

"Yeah… also, you have an American accent… and a really girly scream." Pete added.

Helena's face showed obvious revulsion. "So, my body's out there, teaching high school English?"

"And your students love you," Myka helpfully supplied, if only to ease Helena's mind. (That's stupid, Myka thought. She herself was uncomfortable by these facts. What would she have done had she been the one whose body was occupied by a shadow?)

"Yeah, but a _cat!_"

* * *

Later Myka realized that she'd rather be in the cold Regents' Vault discussing cats with Helena than in that forest, faced with Helena's nobility.

"How do you say goodbye to the one person who knows you better than anyone else?" Helena asked.

"I wish I knew," Myka answered.

Of all times, she chose today to be brave and selfless and noble and all the things Myka wished Helena was when they were in Egypt.

* * *

Though it was unbearably selfish, Myka knew that she was glad Sykes got both the coin and the body.

Heck, she was even glad that she almost died because of chess that day. Because that meant that Helena's back. Completely back, with her body and… soul intact.

"You should have destroyed the Janus coin the moment you found it, then I wouldn't have caused all of this." Helena said, sitting so much like a queen, on the very chair that trapped Myka with a blade threatening to split her skull, while rearranging the chess pieces.

"I wish that you would stop doing that." Myka replied, looking for hidden buttons on the table, anything that may help reactivate the door.

"Doing what?"

"You're not the bad guy, okay? I believed in you and I was right so get off your cross and help me figure this out."

Helena grinned, and seemed to think this through for a moment.

"Righty-ho then. Old times. Wells and Bering, solving puzzles, saving the day."

Myka looked up from her search. "Bering and Wells," she corrected with a smile.

* * *

Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.

* * *

The fifth goodbye she doesn't even remember. She had no idea that it happened. Well, technically, it didn't in this timeline. But Artie knows that it did happen.

Myka considers herself lucky that she does not remember. She can't imagine a world where Helena is… No. Never. Not even going there.

"You should be safe now."

"But you're… out there."

"It had to be initiated from outside the barrier."

And Artie mentioned something about a voiceless "thank you." And Helena smelling apples.

And the blast. Even now, Artie's got nightmares about it. An endless fire.

Yes, Myka's lucky she doesn't remember.

* * *

Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.

* * *

The sixth and last goodbye wrenched the broken pieces of Myka's heart from her body and razed it to the ground. All of the madness surrounding an agent's life finally pushed Helena away. Now she's living a normal life, in a normal house, with a normal family.

Normal. Myka is beginning to seriously hate that word.

Myka remembers that night in excruciatingly vivid detail.

"Maybe just coffee, next time?" Helena said, leaning on the passenger's side window.

The hollow that once held Myka Bering's heart wailed at those words. H.G. Wells, inventor, author, agent, time traveler, their _savior_… H.G. Wells would settle for just coffee? H.G. Wells would settle for coffee because of those two?

She knows it's unfair, but she cannot look at father and daughter (she can't even say their names) without some amount of loathing. Heck, she cannot _think_ of them and not feel resentment bubbling under her skin. (She supposes she feels what Claudia felt that day with Godfrid Haraldsson's spoon, the day H.G. saved both their lives – Myka's with that grappler and Claudia's with her antidote –, like she's going to combust any minute.)

Myka couldn't help herself, and answered, "Or save the world. See what happens."

She had never been so relieved and so miserable when Pete urged their car forward and drove away.

* * *

Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.

Now's not any different.

Myka knows that Hel… H.G. (she reminds herself it is H.G. – less personal, less attached… less pain, supposedly) deserves a chance at happiness. After a century as a bronze statue, a crazy phase involving attempted mass destruction and human extermination, a stint inside a coin and as a hologram, and a death via self-sacrifice in another timeline, surely no one would disagree that H.G. had won her keep. Yes, she should be happy.

But Myka wonders why Helena can't be happy with… _them_. Her Warehouse family.

Or didn't she ever think of them as family at all?

_That_ put Myka into more pain, if it were possible.

* * *

Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.

* * *

She has to do something, anything, to relieve herself of what she feels. Even for just a bit. A salve to the burning sensation inside her chest.

She's going to give one last push.

This is going to be the last.

If it doesn't work, well… _I'll probably kill myself. Or ask for some good ol' bronzing_.

After that lava case, with the Pompeii Amphora artifact, she took the SUV and drove to Boone, Wisconsin.

* * *

"_I'll let you go, I'll set you free._"

* * *

It is nighttime. The skies are clear, and the moon hangs low, casting a yellowish light. The stars twinkle overhead, a bit cheerily for her tastes, but she's not going to complain. At least they give her a reason for not turning on the lights.

With Adelaide at a sleep-over and Nate at an extended business trip, Helena has the house to herself. She finds herself thinking reflectively, and sighs. This is happening a lot lately. Well, these bouts of contemplation started after that last artifact-hunting with Pete and Myka. And increased in frequency and depth after Myka's unexpected visit.

That was three nights ago, when she was, again, alone in the house. (Curious, how she can't call it _home_.) She was looking out the window when an achingly familiar dark SUV arrived and parked across the street. The headlights immediately turned off. Helena waited for the driver, or passenger, to get off, but after many minutes, there was nothing. She was about to go out herself and check when the driver's door opened and a long, lithe figure emerged.

_Myka_. Helena's heart sang. It was a beautiful melody. Addicting. It was something Helena didn't hope to hear again.

Myka was hunched, lost in her coat. Her head, with its beloved curls, was bowed low.

It was not a stance Helena had seen Myka take before. She knew immediately that something's wrong.

When Myka lifted her head to scan the surroundings, and her gaze fell on Helena, all thoughts fled from Helena's head and she was on the yard before she realized it. She stopped a few feet from Myka.

Myka stood motionless, still by the car.

Helena had a feeling that she didn't plan on staying long. The thought brought an unpleasant tingle on her bones.

They stood in silence, and during that silence Helena studied her. Her face was gaunt, as if she missed more than one meal. There were bags under her eyes, which she apparently didn't bother to conceal for there was no evidence that she did. Her breathing was shallow and quick.

But the most striking sign that something was horribly wrong could be seen in Myka's eyes. Once, they were the bright green color of the seas. Once, they twinkled with the intelligence and wit and courage and strength hidden inside. But now, they were washed out. No flicker of what used to be.

Myka looked like an empty shell.

The sight tore at Helena's heart. "Myka…"

"Hello, H.G." Myka's voice whispered in the darkness, and if Helena weren't so aware of her, she wouldn't have heard.

Helena flinched. It's been _so_ long since Myka called her that. And the way her voice coated the name… it was indifferent. Cold. Practiced.

Since Helena was reinstated, before Egypt, Myka had always called her by her first name. And the way her voice sounded it out, the way Myka's lips form around the name… well, Helena has never loved her name more than when Myka says it.

And so at this detached "H.G." her hairs stood on end.

"Myka," she said imploringly, "what happened?"

Myka raised her eyebrow, in that way that she has whenever someone, usually Pete, says something stupid. "You're really asking me that?" Her lips curled in a cruel smirk, her voice dreadfully monotonous.

Helena took a step forward. "Please, Myka… this… oh darling, this breaks my hear- "

Myka glared at her so forcefully, Helena faltered. "Don't you even dare finishing that sentence, H.G."

Myka took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm here to say goodbye."

"What?" Helena didn't understand. Goodbye? Why are they saying goodbye so soon?

"H.G., just shut up for a bit and let me finish my piece." Her voice was still low but with enough strength to convey her message successfully. She had never spoken to Helena like that.

"When you chose them over us, you broke my heart." She laughed bitterly. "Well, actually, you've been breaking my heart since the beginning. That particular goodbye had to settle for whatever remains of my heart's ashes."

She looked at H.G. straight in the eyes. "When you chose him over me, I died, H.G."

Helena's throat was dry. She wouldn't be able to speak should she want to.

"My world always falls apart when you leave. But that was the final blow."

Myka leaned on the car, eyes still deadlocked on H.G.'s. "So, before I completely crumble down, I think you should at least hear why you have that power over me. It took my first seeing Emily Lake, there in that fucking school in Wyoming, before I finally admitted it to myself."

Myka took another deep breath. "I love you."

Helena's breath hitched, much like that time after snagging Joshua's Trumpet.

"I loved you even as I pushed you against the wall, choking the life out of you in that office in Tamalpais. I loved you when you lifted us into the air with your ingenious grappler, that yes, I now admit I coveted.

I loved you even after Yellowstone. In all your terrifying glory, with all your pain and anger, I loved you. While you were clutching that Minoan Trident, striking into the earth, while you were holding the barrel of Artie's gun against my head, I loved you.

As a hologram, present but not really there, I loved you. In the bookstore, when you told me not to run away from my truth, I loved you. When you sided with Pete in destroying the coin, I so wanted to shout at the top of my lungs that the price is too high and I would never destroy you because I love you."

Myka closed her eyes. "Even if it's too late now and you are so obviously pathetically running away from your own truth, I love you."

Myka opened the car door. She murmured, so softly, so gently, "Find yourself, Helena. When you do, I'll be waiting. Forever, if that's what it takes."

She climbed in and again left Helena standing there by the driveway.

* * *

Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.

* * *

Helena took a deep breath, like what Myka did many times that night. She still remembers Myka's every lines and curves and creases and voice inflections and expressions… she remembers everything. She never forgets.

Myka. Myka. Myka. Her blood sings out the woman's name. Myka, who alone held the power to stop her from destroying the world. Myka, whose eyes are like pools of light that takes out her darkness. Myka, the woman for whom she apparently sacrificed her life in another timeline.

Yes. Myka. The woman who holds her heart in her palms.

Helena tears herself out from her reverie and snatches a duffel bag from her closet. A couple of days' worth of clothes, her wallet, her stun gun. She calls the airlines and booked the latest flight to South Dakota, an hour and a half from now. She left a note on the refrigerator door and walked out of the house.

She'll never return.

* * *

"_And when you see what you need to see, when you find you, come back to me._

_And I hope you find everything that you need, I'll be right here waiting to see…_"

* * *

Claudia is surprised to find her at the door of the B&B. Like, jaws-agape surprised.

"Uh, hi, H.G." She says.

"Hello, darling. Could I come in? I was from a really terrible flight and a long drive, so…"

"Oh, sure! I mean, I'm sorry. Come on in, it's just…" Claudia falters as she lets Helena in. "I'm really, really surprised to see you. I'm glad, undoubtedly, but surprised."

Helena nods in understanding as she hears voices coming their way. "Oh, are the others awake already?"

"Yeah, yeah, they're a bit, uh… restless." Claudia's avoiding any eye-contact.

"Is something wrong, darling?"

Claudia blanches at the question, but before she could answer, Artie, Pete, Steve, and a woman she's never seen before comes in.

"I'm just saying, you should have never let her do that!" Pete was furious, but his face carries hints of doubt and betrayal.

"Pete, I didn't _let_ her do that! She did that herself and the regents themselves sent men to carry it out! I am powerless against them!" Artie is exasperated and tired, and obviously trying not to cry.

Helena clears her throat.

They all stop speaking when they saw her.

"Hello, darlings."

Pete looks torn. He seems relieved, and delighted and mad at seeing her. Steve is shocked, mimicking Claudia's earlier expression, and the woman looks at her questioningly, having no idea who she is. Artie is stunned, and recovers quickly, and murmurs, "Took you long enough, H.G."

The woman stares at him. Then at Helena. Then back at Artie. "H.G.? As in Myka's H.G.?"

Helena's lips quirk at that. "Yes. I'm Myka's," she says.

Suddenly, she's on the floor, clutching a bloody jaw.

"What the bloody-!"

Pete is standing over him. Livid. He seems to have chosen which of his emotions he should display.

"What the fuck took you so long, H.G.?! You're too fucking late!" He took her by the lapels of her jacket and pulled her upright, shaking her senseless. "Done playing happy family yet?! Are you done making other people happy while Myka," his voice broke at the name,"…drowned on her pain? Huh?! Are you done playing house?!"

He's crying. Pete's crying. It's like a dam has broken, Helena muses.

She's vaguely aware of the shouts entreating Pete to stop, of Steve trying to take him off her, but Helena doesn't really notice. What she does notice is the tortured look in Pete's eyes, none of their boyish glimmers visible. She notices the hard set of his mouth, the tension on his shoulders…

He's still shouting at her. But it was the softest sentence that got her back to earth.

"They bronzed her, Helena."

At that, she rips his hands off her, and growls, "Do not dare say things like that, Peter."

She stands white-knuckled in the middle of the room as she looked at them each in turn, and lingers on Steve. "Where is Myka?"

Steve shifts uncomfortably. He whispers, "I'm so sorry, H.G. She, uh, she asked to be bronzed. She's in the bronze sector."

The next second, Helena is out the door and is racing to the Warehouse.

* * *

Every time it happens, her heart gets broken.

* * *

"You told me you'll wait for me, darling. 'Forever, if that's what it takes.'" Tears are running down her cheeks. "Is this what you mean by 'forever,' then? Wait for me to die and be reincarnated? Then the agents would track the new me down and you'll be debronzed?"

Helena runs her fingers along the strong planes of Myka's face, the hardened strands of her hair, the slender neck and shoulder blades.

_Oh, god, is this penance for her sins_? Myka is too pure, too innocent, to be put to bronze.

"Mr. Kosan is on his way, Helena." Abigail – that's the new woman's name – says.

"Why can't we just debronze her ourselves?

"Myka asked for special restrictions." Abigail pats her hesitantly. She doesn't pull away. "Myka left very specific instructions on how to proceed on her case."

Helena smiled fondly. "Always the perfectionist, darling. Down to the last detail."

Abigail murmurs, kindly, "She really loved you, you know."

Helena nods, her smile tremulous.

She hears footsteps. Heavy and downtrodden.

Abigail excuses herself.

"H.G."

"What, Peter?"

She can hear him fumbling on his feet. "H.G… I-I needed to know."

"Know what?

"What took you so long?" She looks at him. "You could have prevented all of this if you came with us after snagging that jawbone." He's as serious as she's ever seen. "H.G., all those months during the astrolabe fiasco, Myka was beside herself with worry. She didn't know if the regents did something to you again."

Helena tightens her grip on Myka.

"Seeing you playing house with them," Pete's voice oozes with bitterness, "that did so much more damage than I realized. Of course she's glad and relieved that you're alive in one piece… but I guess the fact that you chose to stay there and not be with us, with her, well… that hurt her so damn bad."

Pete takes a step closer. "She was not the same after that night, you know. Barely eats. Barely sleeps. I could hear her pacing 'round the B&B at night, when she thinks she's the only one awake. And she hadn't read anything, save for the case files whenever we have a ping. _That_ bothers me more than anything. A Myka without books… I don't know that Myka."

And Pete looks so forlorn at that moment, so desperate to have his partner _and_ best friend back, that Helena feels tendrils of guilt creep upon her heart. She did this. She ruined this bronzed woman, and her family along with it.

"I wasn't the only one concerned, of course. Claudia tried to cheer her up with an endless procession of inventions. Artie tries to give her as much free time as he could – she was beginning to lose control in the field. The only ones who could coax some kind of emotion from her were Steve and Abigail."

She looks at him.

"Steve taught her those Buddhist calming techniques. And Abigail, well, she's a psychoanalyst. So I guess they had their sessions."

Pete inches closer. "So please, answer me H.G. What took you so long?"

Not taking her hands off Myka, she answers, "I was afraid." She rests her forehead on Myka's. "I was so scared that if I let myself be with her I'd hurt her, not realizing that I already did that a million times over."

She wrapped her arms around the statue. "Darling Myka, sweet Myka…"

Another set of footsteps. Rhythmic. Methodical. Helena turns. "Do it fast."

Mr. Kosan smiles. It's almost a warm smile.

* * *

"_When you find you, come back to me._"

* * *

"Hello, darling." Myka looks up from her book to see a smiling Helena.

"Hey." Helena pressed her lips softly on Myka's, still quite disbelieving that they are both in the here and now, that she could curl up with and kiss this woman anytime she wants to.

"What are you reading?"

"The Time Machine."

Helena raises an eyebrow.

"Don't get too cocky. It's a childhood favorite."

"Sure." Helena sits down next to Myka, wraps her arms around the other woman, and nuzzles her neck. "I have been telling you stories since you were a child. Interesting. No wonder you grew up so smart."

Myka rolls her eyes (Helena doesn't see it but she knows). She curls herself around Helena. "Whatever, Ms. I'm-A-Genius."

"I _am_ a genius, Myka."

Myka chuckles. She loves every side of Helena Wells. Even the arrogant, so-full-of-herself one.

"Where did you come from, just now?" she asks.

Helena continues nuzzling her neck, dropping feather-light kisses along her jaw, her throat, her shoulder blades, while softly tugging at her curls. "Coffee shop."

"You met up with them?"

"Yes."

"What did they say?"

"They understand."

Myka shifts so that she could look at Helena, who doesn't let go of her. "And do you?"

Helena brings Myka's hand to her face, kissing her knuckles. She looks Myka in the eye and says, "Yes."

* * *

"_When you find you, come back to me._"

* * *

She traces Myka's face with her other hand, "You are my truth, Myka. In any world, in any century, you always will be. When I lost sight of myself, you knew how to find me. You knew how to help me find me. Every time. And every time, I came back to you."

"_When you find you, come back to me._"

She scatters kisses on Myka's face, on the same path her hand had taken before. "I hurt you so much," she murmurs against soft skin. "But you never gave up. I was almost blotted out by the blackness of my soul, but you believed in me, in the still remaining light inside of me. I had Christina as my sun in the light of day, but you, you were the moon and the stars when my world was dark as night."

* * *

"_When you find you, come back to me._"

* * *

Tears roll down Myka's cheeks, and Helena licks them away as they fall.

"I love you. And I will always come back to you."

They are always saying goodbye. Always. They are destined for farewells, the same way they are destined to always meet at gunpoint.

* * *

Every time it happens, their hearts get broken.

But they knew, without any shadow of doubt that they would willingly suffer through all that again if they get to be together, like this, in the end.

They would endure a thousand goodbyes if they get to be rewarded this sweet union.

In the end, they always come back to each other.

Always.


End file.
